Kitty Love
by xXSapphireDawnXx
Summary: Welcome to Hetalia Academy, where students are referred to as their nationality! Arthur, rather, England gets interrupted by America in the middle of a spell directed towards France, messing the spell up, and making it affect him instead. America better hope that England is a better pet-owner than cook... USUK, small GerIta later on ON HIATUS UNTIL MY OTHER STORY IS FINISHED


** You know what I found out today? The UK is confusing. England, Northern Ireland, Wales, and Scotland can all be considered countries, but are inside a larger country, the United Kingdom. But when they are called the UK, they are provinces, like British Columbia, Quebec, and Ontario in Canada (who?). So even Seychelles is more of a country than England. Hey! At least he's more of a country than Sealand!**

**You know what else I found out? France is 69 inches tall. How fitting. ((He is 175 cm as it says in the manga, somewhere))**

**I greatly suggest that you listen to these three songs sometime:**

** m. youtube watch? v= dFOB2sieogQ (World's End Dancehall Hetaloid, England & Japan)**

** m. youtube watch? v= 44L7h4l4OpU (Nah, It'll Settle Itself Somehow, Romano)**

** m. youtube watch? v= avj55JbGyeo (Let's Enjoy Today, England) **

**I am in freaking love with them. I mean, they are playing as I write this.**

**And by the way, they are high schoolers, so America doesn't have glasses. In Hetalia, America didn't have glasses as a teenager (as it showed in that suit clip).**

**Dedicated to xXEpicKittyKatXx, my sister. Because she made me.**

•••••••

Arthur picked up the cat that was sitting on the floor of his apartment. How had this happened again?

•••••••

The blonde tapped his fingers on the side of his shoulder bag, attempting to calm down as he walked home. ((A/N: The ones in which the strap goes on one shoulder then goes across your chest, connecting to a backpack-type thing.)) His home, or rather, dorm, was only a few minutes away from Hetalia Academy, where he went to school.

The school was a very strange one. It was small for a school, only having around two hundred students, whereas most schools had at least three times this number. The school had requested from each country that they send one high school student, so it was a very prestigious, private school. The school was only close to one student's home. Close as in the same country as his home. It could be considered two students' home because his twin lived in Canada with the mother of their divorced parents. Nobody questioned how one twin had managed to be born in Canada and the other in their current location, America.

Anyway, each student was referred to as their country name, as having to pronounce names of nations was much easier than pronouncing all the different cultured names. Especially the last names. Only close people such as girl/boyfriends and family knew each other's real names. Arthur was picked to go to this school. Unfortunately, so were his siblings, Liam, William, Gavin, and Peter; Scotland, Northern Ireland, Wales, and Sealand, respectively. Sealand was even considered a country enough for this school? (Peter was only sent to high school because there were no other children born on that little platform called Sealand. Their mother wanted to surprise his father who worked as one of the guards on Sealand for a short time, but it seemed Peter wanted to be born right there, on that pathetic little platform. Special lessons for 7th grade were prepared for Peter since he was only in that grade.)

Arthur was considered England, as he will from now onwards be referred to. England was a teenager, who acted much more mature than most people his age. Except for during his punk phase in 8th grade and freshman year, but we are not even going to mention that. He had hair the colour of sand, and admittedly large eyebrows. But as if to draw attention away from them, God had given him bright, piercing, emerald eyes.

Anyway, England was still mad at France for earlier during the council meeting. Before, it was bad enough, but today, the older one had crossed the line. The Frenchman's hand had come to rest on the Briton's upper leg, making him grit his teeth through the whole meeting, and trying to push the man's hand off, but it just kept coming back. France was very flirtatious-if it could even be considered that to the extent he was. But he had done this anyway, knowing England hated him with a burning passion.

Now England was going to get revenge on the wavy-haired blonde, using his black magic. No one would suspect him...okay, that's a lie. But what evidence would they have against him? Magic didn't exactly leave a bloody knife lying around.

He fished in his pocket for the key to the dorm room. England slid it in the lock, turning the key and making the lock click as it unlocked. America obviously wasn't back yet.

America was a teenager with sky blue eyes, and hair a few shades more golden than England's own. America was about an inch taller (2.5 cm) than England, which rather annoyed the latter considering he was 2 months older. The younger was muscular, and was one of Hetalia Academy's best football players. Or at least what those Americans called football. But America was loud and obnoxious in England's opinion, and was horrid at reading the atmosphere. The exact opposite of England's friend, Japan.

Whenever America had gotten back to the dorms first-which rarely happened due to (American) football practise-the floor usually had hamburger wrappers littered on the mentioned's bed. How he managed to eat 7 cheeseburgers from McDonald's without having a heart attack made England worry sometimes. Not that he would admit it. The younger teen would usually be in the shower, being made sweaty after practise. That was if England was lucky. If he wasn't, America would already be dressed and playing video games. Then England would have to hear his loud voice.

England set his bag down beside his bed, pulling open the drawer of the side table. Inside lie a real, genuine spell book used for things like this. England had been able to see other things that people couldn't, such as fairies and unicorns as long as he could remember, and as he had gotten older, been able to perform magic. And right now was the perfect time to use it.

The teen pulled on the forest green cloak he had just for times like this. He thumbed through the weathered pages of the thick book, skimming over the bolded titles of the spells. England finally found the spell, reading over it carefully, as to not miss any important instructions. The sandy blonde drew out a magic circle carefully on a piece of paper; even a small circle would work in a case like this. The teen briefly wondered if saying France would mess up the spell, as you had to say the one it was directed towards's name in the spell. He shrugged it off; if anything went wrong for the French teen, it was going to be the latter's problem.

England began murmuring the spell, slightly increasing in volume as he continued on. This spell required full concentration, considering how long it was and how big the effects were. He kept France's face in his mind as he chanted, but it wasn't in a good way. He paused for a moment, having to wait a little for the magic to be at its fullest before saying the offender's name.

America burst into the room, his backpack slung over one shoulder, "Hey, dude!" He cheerfully called, throwing his bag onto his bed. The American crumpled up the greasy hamburger wrapper he had in his hands, which had had half a hamburger in it not even five seconds ago. The younger tossed it to the trash can, easily making it in.

England finally caught up, "America!" It took him a moment before he realised what he had just done. He cursed under his breath ((no pun intended)), crumpling up the written-on paper before stuffing it in his drawer along with his spell book. England hoped that the spell wouldn't affect America because he had been thinking of France the whole time.

"Dude, England, what are you wearing?" America let out a laugh, looking at the cloak England had still been wearing. The younger "nation" quickly pulled it off, blushing, which made his messy hair get even more messed up.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, okay?" America asked, not even waiting for an answer before striding towards the bathroom door. England just nodded, trying to think out solutions in his head to the problem which was going to arise within the next day or two.

Oh how screwed the Englishman was going to be once the spell took effect. It was supposed to change the victim immediately, already one undetermined factor. If that had already happened, who knew what else was going to vary from the original spell prediction? If it did affect America, that was. ((As in if it had worked properly, America or France would have been turned into a cat immediately after the spell had been finished.))

•••••••

After America had gotten out of the shower, there was an endless stream of talking. The American had attempted to study, though after a few minutes of being distracted (quite easily, I should add), he gave up. America resorted to playing his video games, first person shooter games that easily bored England.

When it came 1:30, both of them still awake, England studying, and America still playing on his X-Box 360 (for he claimed the newer X-Box 1 was terrible). The Brit changed into his pyjamas after checking the time. He, unlike the younger boy, slept in something other than his boxers, and went to sleep before 3:00 in the morning.

He settled under the duvet that he had brought from his home in England. Before closing his eyes, England took one last long look at America, as if to confirm the mentioned was still human. The former closed his eyes, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

•••••••

England awoke to the sound of meowing, and a cat kneading his chest. His eyes snapped open when he realised neither he nor America owned a cat.

The fluffy cat hopped onto the ground with grace that seemed impossible for a cat that large as England's viridian eyes opened. The kitty ((I had to use kitty instead of cat)) had creamy white fur that was impossibly thick with a mocha tail and mane that circled his neck. The cat had cerulean blue eyes to rival America's own. That is, they would be able to rival America's if the animal wasn't the American in cat form.

•••••••

Oh, yeah. This was all France's fault.

•••••••

**This is going to be connected to a future story that will be GerIta.**

**R&R, tell me if anything needs to be done better! Oh, and if anyone can come up with a better title, tell me in either PM or the review section.**

**-Sapphire**


End file.
